Tasting the Moon
by Mitsima
Summary: Gaiden Takes place before Kenren gets assigned to be Tenpou's general. A battle torn Tenpou comes back from a military mission to give Goujun a report. Truths come out and Goujun knows more than he appears to. GoujunxTenpou


_Tasting the Moon_

By Mitsima

Down in the main courts of heaven, the gods assembled to celebrate the return of the Southern Army. The day was filled with parades and confetti- Goujun himself was there to see it- topped off by a triumphant march of soldiers back through the gates of heaven. From the main balconies he bore witness to the festivities, the drums and flutes, dancers and bards, speeches and poetry…because gods by nature were jubilatory creatures who always found an occasion to raise the carnival banners.

The commander of the Southern Army, somewhat drunk from all the revelries, looked pointedly at the empty chair next to Goujun's and said, "One day we'll celebrate their return…but he's kept us waiting for so long. Oh, they must be having a ball down there! They don't need us. Why is it that it is only _your_ man who has not yet returned, commander? Perhaps he deserted…" he paused, and then added with a leer, "Just like your general."

"Not him," Goujun replied evenly. "The day he deserts is the day all heaven crumbles to the ground."

"I find your protectiveness peculiar, Goujun. You're that convinced of Tenpou Gensui's loyalty?"

"Should I have reason to think otherwise?"

The other commander did not reply, but mumbled something under his breath about guileless dragons and turned on his heel to leave. And Goujun, quite put out by the encounter, retreated to his office in the Western Military headquarters. There was work to do, and if his men were still on the field, the least Goujun could do was to attend to his duties instead of wasting his time with superficial pleasantries.

The day wore on slowly, like the rusted gears of a clock, the sound of flutes and drums never ceasing. It irritated Goujun to no end, made him want to take flight and lose himself in the clouds, but the weight of his uniform was a reminder of the burden he had chosen for himself. If only he could break free from all this idiocy he could return…but Goujun shook away the thought before it reached his heart, because dragons were unwavering creatures both in anger and tranquility; like the oceans, they were slow to change their temperament, locked in their own currents and resolutions.

He closed his eyes. Sleep took him and when he awoke the light of the setting sun had filtered through the window, casting a reddish glow over the marble floors. All of it reminded Goujun of spilled wine and autumn.

A knock on the door broke through his reverie.

"Commander…" it was the voice of a servant. "Field Marshal Tenpou has come to see you."

* * *

"Sometimes I wonder," Goujun started dryly, looking up from his papers. "How you can be motivated into such behavior by the most inane stories."

The Marshal shrugged. "What can I say, sir? I'm a simple man amused by simple things. Would you rather have me be a complicated man driven by complicated things?"

"You are exactly what you say you are not, only you like to hide it. Why, I don't know."

"And I don't know what you're talking about, sir." Tenpou smiled innocently and sat back into the chair. He tiredly unbuttoned the cuffs of his uniform and massaged the skin beneath, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by his superior though Goujun said nothing about it, not even to chastise him for this breach of propriety.

The original purpose of this visit was to forward a military report- "fresh from the oven," as Tenpou liked to call it. The handwriting was atrocious, the stamp off-kilter and the parchment caked with dust. These latest campaigns had them away for extended periods of time and the casualties were…unusually high, so to speak. And while Goujun was not prone to sentimentality, he could not suppress the sigh of relief that escaped his lips when a servant announced that Field Marshal Tenpou had returned.

Tenpou himself was far from presentable. Mud on his boots and leaves in his hair, reeking of blood and smiling like the brilliant idiot he was. He was also carrying with him a box of moon cakes.

"Reporting from duty, sir," he greeted crisply. "I also come bearing gifts. It has been a long time since you had been back there, so I thought that…if it would please you…"

As he seated himself, Tenpou explained the curious souvenir. The myth had appeared in one of his books- about a dragon that lived beneath the ocean's surface when there were still seven moons circling the world below.

He continued, "It is said that when he first caught sight of these seven moons hanging in the night sky, a mysterious longing bloomed in his heart and for the first time, he understood what humans called 'envy.'

_The gods are mocking me_, he thought resentfully._ Because they are allowed to live in heaven and I…and I…_

Driven by his discontent, the dragon flung himself into the sky and swallowed six of the moons in a single gulp. They were warm at first, sweet like honey, and he was happy to have stolen light from the gods he hated. But no sooner had they touched his tongue than they turned cold, dissolving into nothing. From that point on he began to suffer pangs of hunger unlike anything he had ever felt before."

All it took was the simple equation of moon, food, and dragon to amuse Tenpou Gensui. Sometimes the small pleasures in life were the best, even if it did make you look like a child. As if a small box of sweets could impress a dragon king- Goujun would laugh if he were in better spirits, but Tenpou's little story had an ill effect on his mood.

_How could it be_, Goujun asked himself, _that he was able to leave that one last moon in the sky?_

But Tenpou seemed to read his thoughts. "Some humans use this story to explain the lunar phases, saying that the gods make merry by dangling this last moon in the sky to torture him. The hungry dragon manages a bite, only to have it pulled away from him. Over and over again until the time of the new moon. Only then can he finally eat it whole, but even then the gods manage to wrench it out of his stomach bit by bit until it is completely out of his grasp."

"Tell me, where do you find the time to read while you're down there?" Goujun asked irritably as he stamped the field reports and set them aside. He warily eyed the box of moon cakes and shifted his gaze to the marshal as if to say, _what are you implying by this?_ But he set the question aside for more pressing matters.

"At night," Tenpou replied. "Usually before I sleep, if sleep happens."

"How often does sleep happen?"

"Once in a blue moon, I suppose." Despite his crooked smiles, Tenpou did little to conceal his fatigue. Goujun was too sharp and too observant to fall for small tricks like that. "The soldiers like to drink and I let them sometimes, just to take the edge off things. Believe it or not, that's probably how we've lasted so long away from home. Call it fuel for the heart."

"You report that our soldiers are fine. You say nothing about yourself."

"Well here I am."

"I hardly approve of what I see," the dragon growled. "To destroy yourself like this…"

"The results speak for themselves," he replied tersely. "_Sir_."

A tense gloom diffused throughout the room as the two soldiers silently regarded each other. The sunlight began to fade and a servant entered to light the lanterns and bring tea.

Inhaling deeply, Goujun gave Tenpou a once over and frowned. The redolence of blood, he sensed, was both old and new, fresh gashes over old ones; improperly treated and festering in sweat. It was sickening and troubling at the same time. Only a man like Tenpou would rush out before his own soldiers, doing things by himself and his own way. He would get himself torn up and return to Goujun unrepentant, just like a child. But despite it all, he was more successful than all of his predecessors combined.

"I am still in the process of finding you a new general. As of now, the prospects are… questionable, so please be patient," Goujun said. "You should not have to endure this. Once we find a replacement, it should be easier for you to relegate duties."

"Oh, take your time. The weather's nice down there."

With each passing moment, Tenpou's body appeared to sink lower into the chair. Shoulders slouched, he would shift a bit, wince painfully, and then change position.

Goujun's eyes narrowed. _His back._ _They're on his back._

A few more cursory assessments and he made his decision. "Marshal, you will not return to your troops tonight."

"But sir-" Tenpou moved to disagree, almost jumping from his chair.

_What about the men?_ He wanted to say. _What about the campaign? _Because outside of his own messy library, his cigarettes, and lack of personal hygiene, Tenpou Gensui was a fastidious soldier. He accepted rigor. He stomached orders. And Goujun knew more than anybody how faithfully the marshal played his part with the upper echelons, attending their parties and toasting with the worst of them.

Goujun did the same and they lived the lie together, guarding it as a private secret between themselves.

Yet for all that beautiful self-control, Tenpou's body was of a different mind and he passed out before a single word of complaint escaped his lips. Goujun quickly moved around the desk and swept Tenpou off the floor. He considered calling a servant to attend to the situation, but he hesitated. He feared for his pride and his marshal's reputation. The servants talked too much among themselves. No doubt this little incident would reach the other army commanders in no time and soon enough rumors would fly about the Western Army being without both general and marshal.

_Nothing but incompetence and negligence in that ship of fools, _they would say.

Goujun wouldn't hear of it.

To have the marshal taken back to his rooms in the far side of the complex now- and while everybody would be up late into the night- would have been a dangerous move. There was also the option of contacting Konzen Douji, but no doubt he was tied up with his own receptions and gatherings. Goujun made a mental note to send for bodhisattva's nephew in the morning.

But now…

Goujun cracked open his office door, checked the hallway for passers by, and made haste towards his own chambers.

* * *

When Tenpou opened his eyes, the first thing he registered was the pungent aroma of burning incense and the distinct feeling of being clean. Afterwards he noted the play of shadows in the dimming room and the sound of dissonant flutes drifting in from an open window. This was not his room and this was not his bed. The thought was disturbing, but not enough to shake the fog of comfort that relaxed his limbs and dulled his mind. After weeks of sleeping on the hard earth, he didn't care.

Tenpou turned over on his side and took in his surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished but well used. To one side was a nightstand, desk, and dresser made of black lacquer. If he squinted he could make out an elaborate, gold inlay. In the corner was a small bookshelf - too small for his tastes- and a stiff, mahogany reading chair outfitted with silk pillows. Everything was glaringly austere but of the highest quality, and so when Goujun walked through the door to check on him, Tenpou was not surprised.

"I seem to have inconvenienced you, Goujun," the marshal smiled weakly.

"It is nothing," the dragon replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It is the least I can do."

Goujun looked balefully at the tips of his fingers. The claws were already growing back, and in a matter of minutes they would return to full form. Trimming them had been a hassle, but treating Tenpou's wounds would have been impossible otherwise.

"What do you mean?"

"If I had gotten you a better general from the start…"

Tenpou waved it off. "Oh, but you never know sometimes. Humans are fickle, gods are fickle, it's all-"

"He left you to _die_, Tenpou. Do you not understand that? He made a fool of you and the rest of us or are you so witless as to forgive and forget? Now look at you!"

Blatantly predictable, the way Tenpou would suddenly grow cold whenever Goujun upbraided him, as if he were expecting one thing and getting another; the way Goujun would close in and lose his temper whenever Tenpou evaded responsibility for his own wellbeing. Just as the moon phased in and out of wholeness as it crosses the heavens, there was this: Tenpou's methodical self-obliteration and Goujun's persistent efforts to recover him.

There were other marshal's before Tenpou, but there would be none after- Goujun knew this in his heart. One day Tenpou would betray them and the heavens would crumble upon his demise.

Then Tenpou said, his eyes darkening, "If you're that dissatisfied, then replace me."

"You're being irrational, Marshal."

"I'm serious. Write up the discharge papers and I will gladly accept."

"No."

"Why not?" Tenpou gingerly pushed himself up, discovering only now his state of undress beneath the sheets. They pooled around his waist, white and crisp as the bandages around his body. "Perhaps _you_ are the one being irrational. Could it be possible that you are overestimating me?"

It also did not escape his attention the way Goujun's eyes followed, hungry, guilty and strangely hollow. Tenpou read before that dragons were territorial creatures and he understood, to that effect, that Goujun naturally desired him. He had known it all along, even abused that fact because gods are irascibly fickle creatures and Tenpou could not escape his own nature.

But it was this hollowness that made Tenpou anxious, because he had seen that look before. Not in Goujun, but in his own face and in his own mirror. More than anything it terrified him.

"You have done nothing to merit dismissal," the dragon replied morosely. "I'll admit that I know you are more treacherous than you make yourself out to be. You have the face of a loyal dog and the heart of a jackal, but to me you only show one side and it is that side I will judge. You have no reason to leave."

"Then if I give you reason?" Tenpou smiled, coquettishly tilting his head to the side. He reached his hand out to touch Goujun's hair, but thought against it. "It shouldn't be difficult for me to incriminate myself in ways that aren't treason."

"I would rather hear your reasons for being so difficult."

Tenpou gave it a moment of thought, and then replied, "When I was a child I always wanted to be a dragon."

"You're talking nonsense now."

"It's true. I always told myself that if I were a dragon, I could fly out of this place, find myself a hoard of treasure and guard it my entire life."

Goujun snorted, bemused. "I don't understand how that can be any better than what you're doing now."

"There's a difference. Just like there's a difference between being a god and being a dragon- at least that's what I thought until I started working under you. I can't tell anymore. Are you different from other dragons?"

"I suppose I am." _If by different you mean not free…_

"I thought so too," Tenpou confirmed meaningfully. He took a few moments to digest this new piece of information then asked out of the blue, "I was wondering, sir, how the emperor tricked you into serving him?"

Goujun balked, a cold stone of dread forming inside his stomach. Old resentments awakened, lithely worming through his veins and forcing him to remember everything he wished to forget. There were times when he would wake up in the morning and the scars from battles past would ache ever so slightly- this was the same.

"I thought so," the marshal repeated, softer this time, when he saw the change in Goujun's expression. "So you are here forever?"

"Until someone decides to kill me, yes," Goujun replied, gesturing for Tenpou to turn around so he could change the bandages. He unraveled them as he spoke.

"It is the same with you, Tenpou Gensui, and I think I can understand you a little better now. The more I look at you, the more you take on the appearance of a traitor. You hate this place. That is why you stay down below longer than any mission requires, because only on earth do you feel alive. When you return you drown yourself in chronicles of human warfare because you long for an understanding of what it is like to die…and yet you fear death at the same time. Tell me, am I wrong?"

Goujun traced along the wounds of Tenpou's back, moving down his spine and curving around his waist. It was almost like a map with no routes, much like the man himself. Beneath his fingertips he felt Tenpou's breath hitch.

Goujun leaned his forehead against Tenpou's bare shoulder. "Well?"

"…no. You are not wrong."

"You lust for everything you do not have and I feel that one day, when you finally get what you want, you will loathe both heaven and earth, god and man and everything in between. Perhaps even dragons…" Then Goujun's mouth was on the nape of his neck, biting gently as a fully clawed hand ran its course across Tenpou's stomach. "What are you going to do then?"

"I think…" Tenpou bit back a moan as that hand slipped beneath the sheets and between his legs. "…I think you're being dreadfully cruel right now."

"I have every right to be. It was your own fault for coming to me with nothing but foolishness coming from your mouth."

"I wasn't talking fool-" Tenpou was about to protest again, but when Goujun did _that,_ he clamped his mouth shut and threw his head back.

_Because gods are fickle and dragons possessive…_

It was strange, submitting to Goujun's like this. It was also true that Tenpou wanted this pleasant mindlessness, more than anything else in the world right now. He wanted the heat of Goujun's touch and the guiltless pleasure of being understood, because he knew that beyond this gravity was a nothingness he couldn't face just yet. There was no sun, no stars, and no earth- nothing but the threat of eternity. But Tenpou was a man of faith. One day something will emerge from nothing, but until then there was this…

Tenpou came quietly, biting his lip until it bled and then collapsing into Goujun's lap.

"Goujun, you…"

"Later. You are still injured and this will at least give you a reason to stay here while you recover."

Everything seemed to drift to him from afar, the hands which combed through his hair and the voice that spoke, low and gruff.

"They say a dragon king only gets caught once. When he gets caught a second time, it is an omen that he will soon die. Remember that, Marshal."

"Is that an order?" Tenpou asked, puzzled.

"No, consider it a request and a favor to me. I doubt I can stop you from whatever you are planning on doing, but in the end do not forget what I have said tonight."

Tenpou mumbled a sleepy affirmation and buried his face in the crook of Goujun's knee, wondering what all of this meant. The question returned: _What will you do then? _But it was beyond him.

He felt himself being moved to the pillows and nimble hands replacing his bandages, after which came the ruffling of clothes as Goujun undressed and the weight of the mattress shifting beside him. Contented, Tenpou closed his eyes and edged closer to that warmth, burying his nose in Goujun's soft mane of hair and drifting into oblivion.

Call it a selective memory. He remembered that softness, even after his death and the countless human deaths he suffered on earth. But it was a request Tenpou quickly forgot, only to remember once it had been fulfilled. By then it was too late, the sword at Goujun's throat and the gun to his head. Tenpou had also sealed his own fate, whether or not he was prepared to face it. They both knew it, but gods and dragons were creatures of no apologies and no returns, dreadful memories and eternal promises.


End file.
